


Look at the window, at that storm

by Florchis



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Demiromantic Character, F/M, FitzSimmons Secret Santa, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, demiromantic Jemma Simmons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-12
Updated: 2017-01-12
Packaged: 2018-09-17 02:46:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9300635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Florchis/pseuds/Florchis
Summary: Jemma has to cancel a date because of a snowstorm. Just because things don’t go as planned doesn’t mean they don’t go as she wants. (Even though she has to deal with Fitz’s thick, thick head.)





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RedheadAndProud713](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedheadAndProud713/gifts).



> This is probably the fluffiest thing I have written in a long time. Nevertheless, it’s probably not very fluffy because I’m an awful person or something like that. On the same topic, I tried to fulfill the prompt at the best of my capacity, that it’s not, of course, the best-est. I’m sorry for that. (Also, in other controversial topics, I can not write Jemma as other thing that as demiromantic, and that shows a little here. The way she feels/experiences/lives things is not universal and does not invalidate or contradict the experiences or feelings of anyone else.)

**_They don’t know how long it takes, wait for love like this_ **

* * *

Jemma tries to be upset for the change in the course of events. She really really tries, she just doesn’t…  _ succeed _ . She can try to chastise herself, but the truth is that just because things aren’t going as she planned doesn’t mean that they are not going as she wants them to. Jemma looks down at her cellphone and bites her lower lip. She still hasn’t made up her mind about the correct etiquette on this situations, especially when one is so particularly happy that things are going… not well.

“Have you texted him yet?” Jemma almost drops her phone at hearing Fitz’s voice, not because she was unaware that he was behind her, but because of the not completely platonic thoughts that started going through her head since it started snowing, feeling like he could peek inside her head or something- because, sometimes, it feels like he can.

“Um, no, not yet.”

Fitz makes a face and Jemma tries to not grimace back. He gets antsy and a little bit upset when she goes on dates, because, quote unquote,  _ it messes up with our schedule and, Jemma, to be quite honest it makes you distracted and we can’t afford the time setback _ (he says it with a straight face, which makes it easier to believe, but the exact same words every time, like he memorises them instead of feel them, and Jemma doesn’t know if that is a good thing or a bad thing).

“I’m sorry, um, that you have to cancel your date. You deserve a nice night out.”

There is a million things Jemma could say to that, from  _ Yes, I do _ to  _ It would only be nice if you were the one taking me out _ , and let not forget the honest  _ I only agreed on this date hoping that it would make you slightly jealous, so, who cares anyway _ middle. Of course, what she actually says is:

“Oh, don’t you worry about it. It’s just fine.”

Fitz looks at her for a long beat, worrying his lower lip between his teeth, and he looks like he is about to say something that he doesn’t fully dare, and for a marvellous second, a flame of hope flares inside Jemma. But it’s not the first time and it probably won’t be the last something like that happens, and the moment pass and vanishes as quickly as it came.

“Popcorn and netflix?” He finally says, squeezing her right arm. Jemma repress the tremendous need to counter-argument  _ Why not netflix and chill? _

“Popcorn and netflix, alright.”

* * *

They cuddle up on the couch under a ton of blankets watching  _ Downton Abbey _ \- he let her choose as a pick-me-up, and even though she is not feeling down at all, she is not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. It is a bittersweet situation anyway: it puts under the light everything Jemma aches for, and at the same time it’s a constant reminder of what she can’t have.

Jemma can date back her realization about this ambiguous feelings about six months ago, but really, it probably was just an unavoidable sequence from the day they met. It’s not that she thinks that friendship is impossible between two people of compatible sexual and romantic orientations, it’s just that she doesn’t understand how other people manage to get as close to someone as she is to Fitz and be detached anyway, how they manage to not want everything when they already have so much. She even has a little of a reputation with her ex-boyfriends or ex-somethings about her tendency to be aloof, too-logical, even a little impersonal, and some other terms that Jemma rather not repeat inside her own mind even though she owns up to them with pride: she is her own woman and she doesn’t need no man, and usually she doesn’t even want them that much. 

It took her a long time to understand that she just needed to accept her particular way of feeling things instead of trying to fit her experiences into that big moment of clarity and certainty at first sight that romantic dramedies sell as the be-all end-all. It possibly was the hardest equation she had to crack, but she finally understood that even though she always knew that she  _ loves _ Fitz- because everything always comes back to Fitz, there is not logical reasoning behind that, it just  _ happens _ -, their affinity, their friendship, their mutual interest, their shared likings, their inside jokes and their memories made together also mean that she is, in fact,  _ in love _ with him. It’s not that she fell for Fitz quickly and violently, it’s just that it felt that way when she understood the correlation between what she feels and that until-then cultural-strange term of _romantic_ __lo_ ve _ .

If that journey of discovery wasn’t quite easy, there is something that is even harder: letting Fitz know what she feels for him. Jemma is a scientist, and she can’t dive in head-first without being sure that there is water in the pool (Is that taking the metaphor too far? Maybe. She doesn’t truly care.). Ergo, using her best clothes and a little bit more of make-up than usual, and agreeing to dates that she has not actual interest in, just to see if she can elicit one,  _ any _ reaction from him. If she, Jemma Simmons, a nubile young prodigy with an above average fashion sense, needed that much time to figure everything out, maybe Fitz also needs a nudge in the right direction to follow her path, and she is more than willing to do it, because she has a lot of good qualities, but patience is not one of them.

Sadly, she hasn’t obtained so far anything to support her desire to just come clean with him him and accept the outcome, for better or for worse. And that brings them to this point, cuddling together under the blankets, watching a show while it snows heavily outside, Jemma’s back against Fitz’s chest, his hand splayed wide on her abdomen, her hand drawing slow circles on his knee. Everything she feels and breathes and wants is  _ him _ , and maybe she should wait more, maybe she should see his lack of acknowledgement of her efforts for what it is, but Jemma Simmons is not one to give up without a fight, and fight is exactly what she is going to do.

She places her hand on top of his, and brings her head closer to his neck, in part to draw strength from him, in part to make him see how  _ ridiculous _ this situation is.

“Fitz.” When he just answers with a noncommittal sound, she insists. “Fitz.”

“Yeah, Simmons, I’m listening.”

She debates between turning around to look him in the eyes while she says it and staying like this and using their atypical position and the comfort it provides for her own benefit. She finally decides that she is a fighter but not a masochist, and if he is going to reject her, she doesn’t want to be able to read it on his eyes.

“It’s snowing outside.”

He snorts.

“Yeah, I noticed.”

“I have never been more glad of snow before in my life.” 

His other hand goes to her right hip and, really, when have their lives become so entangled that this is second nature for them?  _ How can he not notice it? _

“And why is that?”

“Because I had a date.”

She can feel him stiffening behind her, and a warm wave goes through all her body.

“I don’t know what to say, Simmons, I already said that-”

“Shhh, I don’t want you to say anything. Not yet. Just listen.” Maybe now is the time to turn around, but here, in his arms, is where she belongs, and she is not ready to give it up just yet. “Didn’t you just hear that I said I was  _ glad _ for the snow?”

Jemma is almost sure he is taking a sharp intake of breath, but she can’t be sure  _ sure _ , the frenetic beating of her own heart almost the only thing she is able to hear

“Um yeah.” His voice is a strange mix of thick and stuttering, and if the fact that she finds even  _ that _ appealing is not a indication of how head over heels she actually is, she doesn’t know what it is.

“Because I didn’t want to go on that date. I much rather be here watching telly, having a nice night in with you.”

“And why is  _ that _ ?” He is repeating himself, and even though Simmons feels like she may die inside if this doesn’t resolve quickly, she can’t stop a smile at his short-circuited brain. She takes a deep breath, because this is it. Time to tell him.

“Because I only agreed on that date to try to get you to  _ notice me _ .”

He is silent for a long beat and, really, Jemma is pretty sure that this is how an aneurysm feels like. His voice is low and soft when he finally speaks.

“I always notice you, Jemma.”

_ That’s not entirely true _ , she wants to say, but a thing she is always learning with him is that one needs to choose their battles, and denying his own experience, even if she doesn’t see it the same way, is never a good idea. So, instead, she uses it to her advantage.

“You do? Because I have been trying to send signals your way for  _ ages _ .”

It’s strange, she realises, to be having this conversation without looking him in the eyes, but it’s not uncomfortable, she feels connected to him anyway feeling his body react and tremble against hers, watching his hands saying what he does not dare to say.

“What, um, signals for what, exactly?”

She knows for a fact that he has a PhD, owns a couple dozen of patents and is somewhat fluent in at least three languages; how can he be so damn dense about this? 

“I don’t mind being stranded on this storm with you, Fitz, because the only person I want to take me out is you, and as long as we are together, going out, staying in, is all the same to me.”

“Because we are best friends, yeah?”

Is he actually joking? She can’t tell for sure, but he has to be, because there is  _ no way on earth _ he can be so smart and so dumb  _ at the same time _ .

“Yes, Fitz. But also because I’m in love with you.”

She feels him growing tense, or maybe she is growing tense herself, but this is it, everything is out in the open and now is up to him. 

“You have never been in love with anyone.”

That’s… a strange reply to her confession, so Simmons turns around to watch him in the eyes, and she discovers that he looks equal parts terrified and awestruck. She tangles her fingers with his, and he lets her.

“Maybe because I didn’t know what being in love meant.”

“And what makes you believe that you know _ now _ ?”

Jemma squints. Of all the reactions she imagined he could have, this one was not on the list. 

“Fitz, why are you fighting me on this?” And then is when a _ terrible, horrible, no good, very bad _ idea strikes her. “It is because you don’t feel the same way? Because you don’t have to invalidate my feelings to make yours valid, you know.”

He inhales deeply, and she knows him so well, he is bracing himself for what he is about to say and even though she thought about the possibility of him not reciprocating her feelings, now she is terrified of that being true. She lets his hand go.

“No, Simmons. I’m not fighting you on this because I don’t feel the same way. I’m fighting you on this because _ I do _ .”

Now it’s her turn to be awestruck.

“You do?” A smile is slowly fighting its way onto her face, but she resists it, because he looks distressed instead of ecstatic while he nods. “Fitz, what’s wrong?” She tilts his chin up with her finger, so he looks her in the eyes.

“It’s just… I dreamed with this for so long, Jemma,  _ you have no idea _ . And now you are telling me it’s true, and I’m waiting to be awaken from this amazingly real dream.”

Maybe this is not how she imagined things to go when she finally told him, maybe she expected big declarations and kisses a little desperate, but this fits with their entire relationship, the conversation and the shared fears and setting the ground so they can build upon it later.

“I want to believe in what you are saying, Jemma, because I believe  _ so much _ in you, I just don’t wanna get hurt.”

She rises her hand up in the air, like she is on class and wanting to answer a teacher’s question.

“Do you trust me, Fitz?”

“Yes, of course I trust you.”

“Do you believe in us?”

It’s a strange thing to ask, she knows, but she needs him to answer it truly and thoughtfully.

“Jemma, you don’t even have to ask.”

“Then believe in everything we have accomplished and everything we have built together. Believe in all the things we share and believe in our years of friendship. Believe in this storm that made us stay here together.” He scoffs at that, and she smiles, because  _ this _ is  _ her _ Fitz. “Believe in what your heart is telling you and, please, _ please _ , believe in mine.”

There are so many emotions crossing his blue eyes, and Jemma wants to know them all, wants to treasure and enjoy and share them all. His lips are trembling, and she knows that her _ entire body _ is shaking, and she has never been more sure of anything in her life and that terrified at the same time.

“I feel like I mucked it all up.”

She puts her hand over his and squeezes it a little. 

“Who cares? We specialize in fixing things up. This is us and-”

Thats is when he lunges and kisses her. It’s not the Perfect First Kiss Jemma always dreamed, it’s messy and uncoordinated, but it’s with  _ her  _ person, so she can’t really complain, because these are his hands on her cheeks, his nice, talented, thoughtful hands, and his soft lips on hers, and everything is him, his taste and his smell and his breathing and Jemma never wants to let go.

But he lets go, with his eyes still closed, and Jemma wants to kiss every golden glint on his long eyelashes. 

“Yeah, that is what I was trying to say.”

He chuckles and Jemma goes over his lower lip with her index finger.

“So, you fell in love with me?” She knows he is trying to sound smug, but there is more than a hint of uncertainty still on his voice. She shrugs.

“Don’t get cocky, but what can I say? You are my best friend.”

She is afraid of what she just said for a moment, because it’s the core of everything she discovered and everything she feels and maybe he won’t take it the best way, but he grins and she can't help but mirror him.

“What a pair of dorks we make, we needed a snowstorm that paralyzed  _ half the city _ to get our heads out of our asses.” He pauses for a beat, and Jemma doesn’t say anything, she is too busy smiling to him like a fool. “What did  _ he  _ say, anyway?” It takes her a minute to understand his question, but when she does, her jaw drops open. He tries to look scandalized, but his gleaming eyes betray him. “Oh my god, Simmons, you didn’t tell him?”

She tries to look- and feel- ashamed, but to no avail when everything she can feel is giddiness.

“In my defence, he wasn’t exactly at the  _ top  _ of my list of priorities!”

“Because what? Because you were too busy doing popcorn and netflix with me?”

He is teasing her and she knows it, so she teases him back.

“Or maybe because I was too busy repressing the need to suggest we replaced popcorn and netflix with  _ netflix and chill _ .”

“ _ Oh my god! _ ” Fitz covers his face with his hands, and Jemma almost doubles herself over with laugh. “I can’t believe you! You are, like, the worst.”

“Maybe. Maybe I’m the worst.” She leans over to kiss his knuckles, and she can shee him smiling through his fingers. “But I’m pretty sure that I am the best for you.”   

  
“That you are. That you are.”    

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Baby, it's cold outside" and introduction from "Lucky" (by Jason Mraz)


End file.
